Take your best shot.

What is there left to lose?

The brutality and chaos of the city touch everyone, but not equally. No one opts out, but some find a way to cash in. The sign says ABIERTO. The door is always open. Her smile is as fake as her name.

Trato de Novios is los masajes downtown. The chicas who work there. The tipos who visit them. Unfiltered. Uncensored. Unrepentant.

A girl with long black hair and a short black skirt doesn't blink when the stranger steps in from the street. She does the math. "Pick me."

The walls are thin. Half a dozen "¡Ay, papi!" going off at once. Watch your step on the way out. The boss took one. The bouncer took another. Two puddles. Should be enough bleach left for the job.

The murder spree takes a break. A bus rumbles by outside. In the room on the right, a man's belly pummels the girl on the mattress. His sweat drips on her face.

She used to say it was a means to an end. Now she just gets up, goes to pee, and waits for the next one.

What is there left to lose? Take your best shot. Use whatever weapon you can get your hands on.

BACK.

It hurts. It costs. La máquina no da cambio. MORE.